


Sleep Amatus

by wittywords



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Belly Kink, M/M, Stress Eating, Weight Gain, an unpleasent situation that leads to sex and cuddling, dorian likes cullen's new curves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-28 12:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15049319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wittywords/pseuds/wittywords
Summary: Struggling with the constant nightmares, Cullen turns to an overly abundant midnight snacks. Dorian offers a better distraction.





	1. Chapter 1

It all started innocently enough with a glass of milk and a spoon of honey mixed into the soothing brew. The warm drink trickled its way into his stomach ebbing the stress from his mind and body after a vicious nightmare had him falling from bed screaming and haphazardly fighting the enemies in the tangled bed sheets. Cold sweat clung to his forehead while the mind suffered to dispel the gore and guts covered walls, the blazing buildings and trapped child screams being burned alive.

The habit progressed into finishing off the entire honey jar, spoonful by spoonful, moving onto the storage of jams generously spread over thick bread loaves, the pantry now being nearly empty and the loss still undiscovered by cooks. There were also leftover slices of pies and cupcakes, puddings, sweet rice porridge generously sprinkled with cinnamon and the list went on.

The payback crept over him gradually, in the form of all belts and straps forced to get loosened hole after hole, until he had to punch new ones. Such arrangement wasn't going to last much longer since the leather was literally running out of length, leaving him at the end of the rope. Long shirts and tunics strained at the arms, gradually pulled out of the pants and their hems crawled over his stomach curve that was growing plumper, revealing more flesh. During the trip to Val Royal, he purchased roomier pants, admitting defeat when his old pair got firmly stuck on his widening hips and ripped when he tried forcing the issue. 

Cullen accepted these changes as the inevitable evil, sacrificing the body for the peace of mind. It's not like his altered appearance was going to frighten off a horde of suitors waiting with flowers on his doorstep. 

Initially, he had even benefited from the additional weight that made him sturdier on his feet in combat and harder to stagger with the heavier blows. Lately, however, there were growing pangs of alarm when his armour let him know in no uncertain terms that its straps were forced back as far as they'd go and it wasn't going to accommodate much longer the amounting bulk. He'd become too fat to squeeze into it and too fat to train the troops. Getting into a chair during the council meetings also became an increasingly challenging enterprise. The chair would issue an ominous creak under the volume being pushed into its confines. His bottom would pool over the seat close to spilling over the edges, while the arm rests cut into his hips. It was a question whether the suffering piece of furniture was going to break under his weight first or he'd get stuck in it. The Inquisitor was sending concerned looks his way, but hadn't addressed the problem. 

As much as this had to stop, Cullen desperately needed a distraction from the horrifying dreams, lying flat on his back in the night wide eyed struggling to discern the border between memories and reality. These kitchen visits, which left him staggering back to his room full and sleepy, allowed him to steal a few hours of rest before he went mad with insomnia. 

Like those troubles weren't enough, he was now direly stuck, trapped by his gluttony. He should have paid closer attention to Sera's threats in the morning to get whoever was responsible for diminishing her supply of the blueberry scones. There was certain commotion among the kitchen stuff noting some of the missing dishes, but none involved suspecting him. 

Cullen wasn't looking forward to the entire Skyhold learning about his midnight snacking habit, although, after a couple of hours, being discovered didn't seem too bad as it would have brought some relief. Humiliation would be exchanged for having the world upright again. 

He was dangling head down from the kitchen ceiling, one ankle caught by a loop. Even the most dull witted nug would have avoided a primitive trap like that. The pyjama top slipped down to his armpits and chin, leaving his bulging middle in full view, a perfect target for a few arrows. He was increasingly nauseous by the swaying floor below and the rope slowly twisting in circles. 

Heaving a deep sigh, Cullen made another attempt to pull himself up and grab the rope securing his ankle. His back hurt in protest at the endless tries. Perhaps in a fitter form he would have accomplished the task. His fingers passed mockingly short of his target and the abrupt motion radically increased the dangling and swaying until he felt like he would throw up. 

Apparently, he deserved no mercy. Cullen squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the stirring bile in his stomach, resigned to wait few more hours until some unfortunate soul would venture into the kitchen and rubbing the sleep muddled eyes would get the fright looking up to see him hang about like a stuffed turkey.

This is when he heard lithe footsteps and the kitchen door creaked open admitting another visitor.


	2. Chapter 2

Shoving the offending material out of his face, Cullen squirmed and twisted in an effort to identify the victim of his humiliation. The knowledge brought him no relief. A butt crack full of Sera's arrows was greatly preferable. 

Stepping nimbly like a predatory cat, Dorian Pavus tiptoed into the room. The very man, Cullen nursed a quiet but deeply rooted and stubbornly blossoming crush on, got to see him in full misery. The extra pudge along his thighs and buttocks quivered from the strenuous effort to free himself and the amassed gut sagged towards the floor. How many hours have they spent together, knees occasionally brushing, heads bent close over the chess board, establishing trust and friendship. Even if his feelings weren't reciprocated, Cullen dearly wanted the mage's respect. Would Dorian be able to look at him without laughing after this? 

The finely arched eyebrows twitched in surprise as the mage looked up and then made a circle below the victim sizing up what to do next. "What an unexpected surprise," his smooth voice filled the room. Its cultured depth caressed the senses in spite of a sting his words bore. "While I had expected, via the law of the ridiculous, that Sera's trap might capture someone, I hadn't anticipated such a feast for the eyes." 

"Dorian, please help me down," Cullen's voice cracked with desperation and a tinge of fear, reduced to begging. 

Immediately, a swirl of magic freed his foot. It was followed by a sickening plunge cushioned by the slow fall spell. Saving his head from getting a nasty bump, Dorian grabbed hold of the warrior's shoulders, flipping the blond up just as the rest of him plummeted hard onto his back, dragging the mage to the floor as well. Dorian's shoulder cushioned the back of the warrior's head.

Maybe getting knocked out would have been mercy. The world didn't settle the right way, taking its precious time. His wobbling stomach was in danger of emptying itself. Everything was spinning accompanied by a roar of blood in his ears. There was little choice but to helplessly lean against Dorian. 

"Cullen? Can you hear me? Are you badly hurt?" 

Getting no answer, the mage took it upon himself to search for injuries. His hands were warm and gently prodding. There was a faint sigh of relief upon realisation that aside from a few bruises, nothing was broken. The blond was merely stunned and shivering. 

"It seems only fitting to say that I'm truly sorry," Dorian issued, cupping the blonde's cheek and searching wide, amber eyes for a sign of lucidity. "It was not my intent to mock you when you were pained and frightened." 

Cullen understood. He just wasn't ready to speak yet. Treading lightly, Dorian motioned the warrior to lean against his chest. It was best to get him off the floor as soon as possible. The mage may have found the situation amusing had Cullen's face not gone ghostly white after the fall. That had frightened him more than the moment when he had realised how Alexius was using time magic to erase them from the existence. Dishevelled blond curls tickled his neck. It was tempting to press a kiss onto them. Dorian settled for wrapping his arms around his charge, guilty at a stab of pleasure caused by a corpulent hip pressing against his middle when he needed to be supportive. 

"If you could grace me with a few words at leisure, that would be spectacular," he murmured. "I dearly miss your voice."

"This is up, right?" Cullen groaned. 

"Very much so. Can you make an effort to rise?"

Cullen shifted in his grasp. His movements were disoriented. His formerly entangled leg was as good as a blue log. It was completely numb and uncooperative. He tried to get up regardless and slumped against Dorian with a barely suppressed groan. 

Since his attempt at healing magic was more likely to turn his companion into a pumpkin, Dorian resorted to rubbing the abused limb, not quite satisfied with the result. 

Cullen's pyjamas were all twisted. Always meticulous with his clothing, Dorian adjusted them, casting a subtle stretching spell upon recognition at how ill fitting they were. His hand smoothed over the rising stomach, fascinated how malleable it felt. The blond had a way of making everything about him look endearing, chubbiness included. His body curves were softly moulding over Dorian's angular features. 

That ridiculous inability to select proper clothing was blasphemously erotic. The ill fitting pants and tunics would bulge, exposing parts of the blossoming flesh at the unexpected moments. Dorian's favourite were those warm days when Cullen would remove his overcoat. Across the chess board he would lean into the broad armchair, his well upholstered hips deliciously filling the seat. There would be a notch smug smile watching Dorian squirm over the game pieces in the inevitable defeat, taking deserved reward for his mastery in spite of his opponent's clever traps and the subtlest cheating. He enjoyed leaning backwards onto an elbow or draping an arm around the back of the chair, giving his plumping belly free reign to slide forward. There were gaps in between the buttons, showing off creamy patches of skin. They strained close to popping off whenever the blond shifted. Thinking how much he wanted to stroke that protruding stomach left Dorian distracted and hard. 

"Well then," he announced, feeling a subtle stir in his gut at holding the man close, "it's your lucky day. Not only am I unbelievably handsome, but also amazingly fit."

The chubby belly nudged at his ribs as Cullen issued an uncertain chuckle. Encouraged by a far better reaction than disoriented whimpers, Dorian shifted to support the injured side. 

"Can you wrap an arm around my neck?" the mage requested bracing his leg bent at the knee in front of them. Once confident that Cullen's hold was secure, he lifted them in one abrupt motion on the exhale. Most of his companions weight tilted against him. The mage wrapped an arm around the blonde's waist, holding him tight, while Cullen established his balance on the good leg.

Limping profusely, they went to seek shelter in Dorian's room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY CANADA DAY to fellow Canadians reading this and anyone celebrating with us! :)

Half way to their destination Dorian succumbed to the most ridiculous sentimental bout, unable to endure any more resilient suffering, especially since that suffering had the unbearably expressive puppy eyes and a humiliated blush. After Cullen apologized again for leaning so much on him and stumbling, Dorian lifted the blond into his arms over a shocked protest. 

Once the noble of the House Pavus took up a task, his pride suffered no compromise. Admitting that he wasn't up for it was not acceptable. The blond truly was heavy, but Dorian preferred to be shipped back to Tevinter in a container, note attached how he was ready to marry an obscenely rich match of his father's choice and breed snobbish babies, than letting Cullen know how he lacked the physical strength to carry the blonde in such an ungainly manner. 

The abundantly gained weight was Commander's sore spot. Dorian discovered that accidentally during one of their chess games where he risked complimenting the warrior's shapely behind. This type of banter was their daily ritual. Dorian would veil his attraction as a joke, Cullen would blush prettily hiding his face in a furred shoulder or even risk mildly flirting back. This compliment fell flat. Commander flushed an embarrassed red and withdrew into himself for the rest of the evening.

Personally, Dorian found it thrilling how the perfectly shaped bottom grew more pronounced. No longer hidden by the oversized clothes, it strained against the pants confines, every sway and ripple showcased by the clinging material. It was ample, luscious and on the immodest days Dorian almost envied the Orlesians who had the free card of trying to pinch it. Of course that was the fools notion. Cullen deserved more respect than that. So, Dorian settled for distantly complimenting him, steering clear of the subject that made the blond shy. When Dorian ignored the strain to his muscles, there was a large bonus to having the warrior pressed against his chest. The blond was cuddly wrapped in his arms. The mage only set his charge down reluctantly to unlock his bedroom. His stomach churched in sympathy as Cullen limped the remaining several steps to bed. 

The blond signed in relief that it wasn't one of the chairs he got deposited into. Dorian's room contained stuffed bookshelves and a burning fireplace. The warmth emanating from it was a welcome change from the drafty hallway. Although he usually found Dorian's love for heat a bit excessive this time it was saving grace as he was still shivering uncontrollably, unsure if it was from the cold or stress. The warmth soothed his aching body, gradually lessening the symptoms. 

"You're still swaying. Lie down." 

Dorian's hand on his chest guided him to settle comfortably against the multiple pillows where the mage draped a blanket over his body. The fire gleams in his dark hair were mesmerising. Unidentifiable feeling lurked in the grey eyes resting on him made the blond feel safe. The man was so handsome, it made Cullen's heart ache. 

The feeling was returning to his leg, pins and needles, discomfort soothed by a comfortable bed hugging his body like it'd been waiting for him all along. The danger of making a greater fool of himself by throwing up all over his host's luxurious bed was passing. The nausea settled, allowing Cullen to tilt his head to observe Dorian's wavering shadow as the mage shifted through his large assortment of creams. He tested and sniffed each critically until one satisfied. The bed tilted under his weight as Dorian returned to his charge's side. Pristinely tailored, silk pyjamas flattered his form, falling over the muscular contour along his arms and abdomen.

"Let me see your ankle," the handsome vision prompted. 

"Thank you, I would prefer to apply the balm myself," Cullen protested. His dignity was no longer recoverable, but he could stand to inconvenience Dorian less. He'd try to address the injury even if the leg didn't bend well presenting a challenge to reach the ankle. 

"Why Commander, do you not trust my illustrious healing expertise?" Dorian sounded hurt.

"No! I mean yes! Of course I trust you! Surely you cannot doubt..." Flustered and tripping over his tongue to reassure the mage, Cullen finally noticed how the fine moustache line above Dorian's lips was twitching in suppressed laugher. His hand was theatrically laid over his heart. Maker, how many times was he going to fall for that? 

"Well then, I accept your answer as the dear wish to be taken into my capable hands," Dorian purred, prying the blanket off the injured limb. 

Elegant fingers hovered over his skin as the mage assessed the injury. Scooping up a generous amount of cream, Dorian gently applied it to the stinging area where the rope cut into the flesh and left torn strips of skin as well as the purple bruise encircling the ankle. 

The objects in the room have finally assumed their normal positions without swaying. Effectively silenced by another fluent innuendo, Cullen rested his head back on the pillows. The flirting came as naturally as breathing. The mage's clever quips left him floundering in an effort to keep up, yet nudging the heart's door a crack open for the foolish hope to creep in. 

The pyjamas pant got rolled up higher. Securely, Dorian cupped the back of his leg. Delicate, circular motions of his fingertips rubbed the ointment into his skin, the limb's blueness giving way to the flushed pink. The mage was careful to manipulate the knee joint into bending until Cullen could do so without his assistance. More ointment was massaged into the kneecap until the mage was satisfied and lowered the leg to rest on a pillow. 

"Thank you. I am feeling much better now." 

Cullen knew he should get up and return the bed to the rightful owner. With the injury taken care of, it would have been rude to overstay his welcome. The thought of limping back to his draft suffering room across the castle was daunting. Ignoring the languishes in his limbs urging longer recuperation, Cullen heaved himself up on the elbow determined to do the right thing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This idea came very much spontaneously. I'm glad it has written itself out so quickly first to last chapter. I hope it was fun to read. :)

"It's a pleasure to be of service," before he could express any such wish, Dorian fluffed a pillow under his back and motioned Cullen to settle right back against it. "I benefit finely from having a handsome man tucked up so nicely in the middle of my bed." 

Blushing profusely, Cullen cleared his throat and licked his lips. His throat suddenly parched dry. The pale scar above his lip an eternal distraction, the type that only needed to be kissed away. 

"How rude of me," Dorian slipped off the bed to return promptly with a glass of water, which Cullen gulped down quite sloppily. A thin trail of water escaped the corners of his lips and trickled down the jaw line where a faint marking of a second chin was starting to emerge. 

As the blond brushed away the trail with his thumb, his jaw cracked wide open in a demanding yawn. His eyelids felt quite heavy and he rubbed them. His broad shoulders reinforced by additional girth slumped. 

"Hence the hospitality is up to your standards, I would advise to get some sleep."

"I can't!" Cullen's eyes snapped wide open in alarm nearing panic. He set up dismally, twisting the blanket that pooled around his portly hips, abruptness earning a twitch from the mage. The violent reaction deserved an explanation to a person who saved him. In the wake of the blush heating up his cheeks and neck, Cullen's confession came soft as he fought the rising tide of the trailing memories never to be entirely vanquished. "It's the nightmares. The food distracts me from an awful past and makes me sleepy. I know too much is not healthy, but I am so lost. Overworking myself until I can fall doesn't help either, even makes it worse."

Unable to subdue the insistent throbbing of his heart that urged him to vanquish the pain etched across the handsome features, Dorian cupped the blonde's face, guiding him to look up. His thumb caressed a stubble touched cheek. Grey eyes swam with the eternal protest against the restraints that seemed impossible to break and willing them to yield. Cullen focused on a beauty mark so perfectly set on a bronze cheek. Even the tiniest bits of Dorian were refined. 

"There is one other method you could try," the mage breathed. 

"Which?" 

There was a falling sensation as Dorian leaned forth and captured his lips in a kiss. It's tenderness flowed surreal. Cocooned by its warmth Cullen returned it tentatively like he was holding onto a fragile dream. Enamoured as he was, when Dorian's hand ventured under the pyjamas towards that alluring stomach, Cullen tensed and put slight distance between them. Far too easily flustered and even easier to derive secret delight from his dismay, Cullen tugged at his pyjama collar, setting it askew again and revealing a collar bone. He was exposed raw and balancing in between desire and anxiety. 

"Dorian... I..."

"Have been abundantly spending time at the kitchen? Working up a lovely shaped figure?" Dorian purred letting his hands drift anew and meeting no resistance they glided all over the tempting curves and squeezed them. "It's very, very fetching on you, I daresay, or do you doubt my impeccable taste?"

The warrior looked like an overindulged Mabari puppy who on great oversight got abandoned alone in a freezing snowdrift. Rescued from the heartless act, snug and cuddly, and adorable in his chubbiness, he gushed with the pure hearted love, while getting coddled by his saviour. The amber eyes regarded Dorian tenderly through the golden eyelashes. 

Not waiting for an answer, Dorian looped an arm around Cullen shoulder's pulling him in for another kiss, smiling when the blond shivered in want and melted against him. The warrior's flanks had a stout layer of padding as well. They were very sensitive and squirm prone, much to Dorian's delight. The mage was falling in love with the innocent expression of pleasure as he teased and nibbled on every juicy bits of the captivating flesh. He was desperately hard when his hands trailed to the full fledged object of his dreams.

The perfectly shaped ass was huge, flaring into engorged hips and thick legs. That part of his lover also stood the least abused. Crossed by no silver scars, the flawless skin was silky to the hungry touch. There was plenty of it to group and mould. Dorian lifted a buttock and let it plop down deliciously. His finger delving in the deep cleft were tempting the opening.

"Dorian please..." the bond gasped arching against the prodding fingers. Cullen was precious and there was a lot of him. Dorian wanted every inch of that glorious, chubby butt. 

Cullen explored the stark contours of his back, gradually moving towards his rear as Dorian uncorked the lubricant and rubbed it between his palms. The mage settled in between the cushioned thighs. As much as he wanted the pleasure of watching the fine rear wobble with each thrust, he needed to see his lover's eyes and intercept the slightest bit of discomfort. In spite of the lust clouding his senses there was a glimpse of anxiety as the blond was motioned onto his back and Dorian moved in between his legs. 

"We can stop," Dorian told him gently. "I won't do anything to hurt you."

"I... want to," Cullen glanced at him shyly. The blonde's arousal throbbed between their stomachs. 

Dorian pressed a kiss onto his lover's soaring belly. Muttering reassurances, the mage gained a solid grip on his hips. One more kiss and then he pushed into the accommodating heat. There was an unfamiliar pinch in his chest. Dorian felt a powerful tug of smile, not a veiled one, but a full force grin taking residence across his features as his lover's eyes fluttered closed and the kissable mouth parted eliciting yelps of pleasure. 

"You are lovely, Amatus," uttering more sweet nonsense Dorian rocked his hips, angling in search for the sweet spot. Another moan and his lover's body surged against him seeking more. He sped up the pace entranced by his lover's sway and the droplets of sweat glistening on his skin.

He would kiss this wonderful man, hug him, keep him safe from the frightful memories each night. Dorian had so often fallen to the demons of contradiction, but this urge to protect the blond suffered no argument. The time as they moved in sync stretched into infinity.

Not gently but passionately, his name was called as his lover's body shuddered in release. The cum shot across their stomachs. The contracting muscles around his shaft brought Dorian over the edge as well. His soul was pierced by a bright burst of sunlight that dropped him breathless onto a flowery field where he lay savouring the intense emotions.

Peace was enveloping the pair as the ecstasy waves subsided. It was relaxing to be sprawled on the bed, lazy hand stroking his lover's pliable middle. Cullen was sprawled next to him, nose buried in Dorian's shoulder. His breathing was gradually evening out and lulling him to the boundary where Cullen fought his deserved nap. 

"Sleep Amatus," the mage whispered. In obedience, the golden eyelashes fluttered closed as the blond got pulled into the serene current of dreams. Careful not to stir the bed, Dorian rose onto his elbow to watch his resting lover.

Cullen napped naked, spread out across his bed. The dark, silky sheets pooled around his body, tracing his lovely contours. Careful not to wake the resting man, Dorian pressed a kiss onto the chubby cheek. This minor puffiness was a lot more accommodating than the gaunt paleness he wore at Haven. It gave Cullen a charming, slightly boyish look and he seemed healthier. 

Dorian watched the relaxed rise and fall of the rounded tummy. It was imperative to alleviate Cullen's distress and ensure the warrior didn't outgrow his armour, but it seemed a shame to melt off all those glorious curves. Smiling wistfully, the mage leaned in to press a delicate kiss onto the soft flesh. Maybe, their next lovemaking would involve chocolate and strawberries.


End file.
